Zombie Strike Force
by Commander York
Summary: Three years after the zombies have taken over the earth.
1. Chapter 1

*This is the first actual story that I have written, please as I post them let me know what you think. Also if there are any grammar flaws please let me know. -Commander York

Zombie Strike Force

By: Commander York

Part 1: The Team

Chapter 1 Strike Team

Recovery team One and Two touched down on the surface of earth, the place that they once called home. But it wasn't their home anymore, the world belonged to the damned.

"Team one lead to Team two lead come in over."

One of the men in an over sized suit spoke into his microphone mounted at the front of his helmet.

"Go ahead Bat; remember we are on the ground, we don't need to be so formal down here."

Staff Sergeant Battaglia looked at his fellow Team leader and took off his helmet. He smiled as he locked the helmet back into its place and began to stow the rest of his Reentry gear into their respective lockers.

"Marty one of these days command is going to actually monitor our communications circuit; I just don't want them to catch us with our pants on backwards."

The two staff sergeants exchanged glances and laughed. The two had been working together in the same unit for the past three years. Both had come to realize during that time that command never monitored the channels their recovery teams used. It was a policy designed to protect the radio operators on the moon from hearing the unfortunate screams of field agents becoming zombie food. Most of humanity lost somebody they cared about on the planet and the brass was determined to cut the suicide rates down. So once you're on the planet you were effectively on your own until it was your time to come back.. If you didn't come back you were assumed dead. Of course there were a few that actually did come back late and they were subjected to a variety of tests that would make them wish they didn't come back at all. But at least they came "home". The staff sergeants looked over their teams, then they began the briefing.

"Alright ladies, today command has planned a picnic here in North Carolina. Sorry Marty but it looks like we are hiking in your mountains this time."

The agent's young and old both looked at the two men, one even let out a little laugh.

Staff sergeant heard him and rounded on the private. He looked him straight in the eye. With the look of murder in his eyes.

"Do you think somethings funny? Because I bet your team leader doesn't find it funny. Do you Staff Sergeant?"

Martin looked at him, his face was a little red but he had a familiar thousand yard stare, and he knew just what that meant, not a thing to laugh about.

"Private you better check yourself before I wreak you. Do you understand me?"

The private looked up at him, and quickly shook his head that he understood. He couldn't be more than 18 years old. He still has a childlike face. With that taken care of the two staff sergeants wrapped up the briefing and told their men to get some rest. Most of them had alread been awake for 48 hours, and some find it difficult to nap on the way down to the surface. Despite over 60 years of developing technology, reentry into earth was still shaky.

"Bat, why are we here? Command got something with messing with our emotions again?"

Marty was looking at him with some angst in his eyes. Bat turned around and stared out the window and let out a short sigh. Both were silent for a few minutes then Bat turned to face his friend once again.

"Marty, I don't have an answer for you. But after this mission I'm done. I'm out of the service and I'm staying down here to live out my life. I'll go back to my hometown and walk right into my old house where I last saw my family and i'm going to defend it until there is no more fight left in me."

Marty looked into his eyes, despite them being half closed all the time he could tell he wasn't joking around. Martin let out an awkward chuckle and began to sharpen his knife. Being around people like Battaglia always worried Marty but after working with him for so long he began to not worry that he will be killed in his sleep Battaglia always seemed like the type even before they joined up with the peoples and supply recovery agency but he knew that it was all talk. The only things ever in danger when he was around were the Zombies.

The sun started to set outside leaving an ominous shadow on everything it touched, and the ships computer automatically sealed off everything that could let anything not living inside. It wasn't until about two or three hours after this Battaglia would finally go to sleep. He always double and triple check every seal, hand and door. Then he went to his teams' assembly bay to double check that the work was done for the day. His men always did a good job getting things ready; they had the fight still in them.

He made sure they were prepared for it, personally picking and training every single member of his team. They were the best and everyone knew it, which is why they were always picked for these kind of missions. He went to his desk, opened and then turned on his laptop. It would take a minute or two so he reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar and a bottle of rum.

Both were considered contraband while out on missions but this was a special occasion he reasoned. It was his sister's birthday. Even though she had been dead, well deadish for three years now. She was the first of his family to get bitten, and he blamed it enterily on himself. It was his idea that put her there anyways.

The only thing that he could tell his family when he carried her home was that he didn't know. He hated not knowing what was going on and let alone having someone else take the heat for his mistakes. This time however the heat was a life consuming plague that was widespread and up until that time unknown to him. The old government had covered it up pretty well. The president at the time played it off for a while as a cult that believed in cannibalism was the only way to live.

Of course it was an election year when the outbreak became full swing, so needless to say the one man that everyone believed could have defeated it was assassinated shortly after his inauguration into office. Radicals always had a way of ruining thins for everyone. Some of them made it to the moon with the rest of humanity, and for all he knew there were a few in the PSR, they didn't do much anymore, not since the death penalty was being sent to the surface in a individual re-entry pod. The things were always programmed to be fired right into the center of an infested area. Satellites would broadcast what was going on in that area just as they touched down.

It was always a public execution and it was an effective tool. However you had to be extremely dangerous to execute. There was work to always be done and with only 8 billion people living on the planet now it had to be done a lot more often. Public shame would keep dissidents more in line, stockades were in, and prisons were out. The laptop made its login sound.

The desktop appeared. It was a picture of his entire family; mom, dad, brother and his little sister. He remembered their voices still, and he heard their screams when he closed his eyes. He was a coward then, he ran instead of being taken when they came. It wasn't the zombies that got them thought, it was the CDC/. Whenever something came by the government couldn't handle they would always turn to them to contain what they tried so hard to bargain with.

You couldn't bargain with the dead, all they wanted was your flesh. Bat quickly opened his eyes, he will have a nightmare again he knew that for sure. He always had them and could predict what would cause them. The zombies were never his worst enemy, his own mind was.

To him the worst enemy is one that couldn't be beaten, so he told himself it was a good thing his mind was his enemy. He knew it wasn't but it helped him sleep at night. He poured himself a shot of the rum still sitting on his desk and lit the cigar.

"Kimmy, big brothers sorry." He said sulking to himself.

Knowing his sister couldn't hear him made it worse. On his laptop he typed birthday and it began to play the song he and his family would always sing for one another. He would sing along to it, and add at the end "may you stay forever young." He took the shot and relaxed as the liquid went smoothly down his throat. He hard footsteps outside of his office, and already knew who it was before he even entered the threshold of his door.

It was not Martin; it was the private he had yelled at earlier. "Staff sergeant, may I have a word with you please?"

He motioned the private to come and sit, offering him a cigar and a drink. Despite rank he was always happy to share his dwindling supply of contraband.

"What's on your mind Willows?"

He didn't remember his name; he actually had to look at his name tag to say it. You can relax down here Willows, we don't grade for bearing down here." Willows looked down and visibly relaxed himself.

"Staff sergeant this is my first mission. I apologize for earlier."

Bat was about to tell him it was okay, but as he was forming the words in his mouth Willows drew his sidearm and started shooting at him. Two of the bullets managed to hit him in the arm as the staff sergeant dove for his alarm and his personal sidearm. This was the only place he ever felt the safest, so he didn't wear his battle armor. He cursed his complacency as he returned fire. Willows was definitely wearing his armor. The staff sergeant ran out of ammo and switched magazines. When he got back out of cover to continue firing he found that the private had already left. Martin and the rest of teams one and two

"Marty, Willows shot me!" Bat got to his feet and put on his armor, and spoke to the ships AI.

"Delta, lockdown this ship! Do not allow Willows to escape!" The AI didn't respond, so Bat turned to Marty

"Get the teams ready for combat, switch to AP rounds."

Marty was watching Bat closely, his face may be hidden but he could never hide his body language. He was hurting bad, Marty didn't even need to look at the stream of blood that was leaking slowly through his seals to know it either. Bat caught him watching his every move and turned to him.

"Don't worry about me man, Now lets go get this bastard before he does something we all are going to feel in the morning."

They began searching the corridors, and every single compartment. The teams were searching the engine room when Delta came back online.

"Staff sergeant, I regret to inform you that I was taken offline by Private Willows. I took the liberty of running a check of the ship while you were on the bridge." Martin keyed in and interrupted the AI. "We went to check the sensors before we left the bridge Delta, they said he was down here."

"Those were false tracks Staff sergeant. I now hold him heading towards... He is heading to the doors!"

Almost as if he had predicted the future the alarms went off. Willows was escaping the ship. The teams raced out of the engine room and towards the doors. They were no longer worried about Willows escaping, it was the dead surrounding them that had them running at full speed towards the door. They got there just as the doors started to close, willows was gone and a few of the zombies got in and were promptly put down.

The team leaders had a different place to run, they had to get to the observation deck. From there they would be able to control the doors and watch where willows had run off to. It was dark up there, not by accident either, since it sat high on the ship so it served as a good point to look over the area without being at risk. The night vision goggles helped in this especially at night. They could see willows cutting a swath of death through the crowd of undead. He managed to live another day, breaking through them all.

Bat watched as he ran into the direction of the mountains. He could last only so long out there. All of them knew it, and they would see him again soon. Radicals like him were predictable like that; the only way to stop them was to put a few rounds through their thick skulls. Bat closed his eyes and fell backwards, shock had finally set in on him.

"Team two report to your bunks, Team one that means yall too! Delta prepare the medical suite."

"Sir?"

"Just get to your bunks, i'll carry him to medical."


	2. Chapter 2 Martin

***Special Thanks to Marty522, Valorknigh,t Featherine, and Dantalion for your support, I'll to my best not to disappoint. **

**Featherine, Dantalion its really not a base off of L4D more of Walking Dead but none of it is similar I just had to put a category hahahaha**

Chapter 2

Martin

After Marty had to carry Bat's unconscious heap to medical it was nearly midnight. Marty was ok with being still awake, insomniac that he was it would always show up in force when he landed on earth. Down here there was no luxury of sleeping rooms or robots. "Who needs them anyways?" Marty will tell himself this over and over again until he fell asleep. During the what was sure to be a long wait for sleep he walked to his own teams assembly area. His team was made up of mostly snipers and heavy support specialists. He saw it to be his personal mission to be the best in his field in defense and support.

That is why these two teams were always sent together. They complemented one another, Bat was the sword and he was the shield. Despite his offensive capability it would nearly always be up to Marty to dig Bat out of the hole he would crawl into after he ran out of ammo. Thanks to his likeable nature he was always able to convince the douche bags at PSR command to give the team everything they asked for. Weapons, ammo, armor and the ship were a testament to that.

The only thing the teams had to create for themselves was their own vehicles for ground movements. They had to be made just right, and so secure nothing could touch them. They were solar powered, with a small nuclear battery backup, and if they needed to they could make it bullet, explosive and zombie proof. They even made it so their windshields would change their tint at a touch of a button, and placed a camera so they could see when they were completely dark. Mounted at the front on two of the four the teams created was a .50 caliber machine gun turret, controlled by one of the people sitting in the backseat.

Martin sat at his desk for a few seconds, and then went to the observation deck once again to look at the surrounding area. He lived here for a good portion of his life, and he hated having to come back here with it looking like this. Three years ago he would have killed to come back here; it was his favorite escape from those annoying weekdays of being a sailor. He wondered briefly if his family got out okay. Then he banished the thought, it wasn't going to do him any good in the following days of this mission.

"Welcome home Staff Sergeant." Delta spoke into his ear; he didn't mean anything by it except to be courteous. Damned AI's he thought to himself then spoke.

"Thank you D. Just wish it wasn't like this when I came back." The AI replied in kind, "I sense that I have triggered an emotional response, I regret to inform you that I was not programmed with the ability to sense and understand human emotion."

Martin knew this and assured him that he understood his limitations.

"Hows Bat doing?"

He had to ask the AI, since he knew he was monitoring that as well as talking to him.

"He is doing well' I recommend that you not punch him in his left arm tomorrow. It will be very sore" Martin looked at themonitor where the image of Delta was being displayed. "Don't you worry I won't punch him to hard."

Delta knew what that meant, and he knew for a fact that Marty was going to give it a good punch. He didn't say anything, making recommendations was all he could do at this point. When it came to pain he knew it would have been better to have kept his mouth shut. The observation deck was dark still, and outside the zombies were starting to shuffle in the direction that Willows had run. Martin keyed in a code in his chair and it reclined back.

He could sleep better in here for some reason. Before he fell asleep he looked over the team's roster. Minus Willows he was down one man. That left 19 in total for the mission not counting Delta and the two Team leaders. He had to once again divide up his squads.

One of his teams would have to come with them, and one of Bats will go with his team. He jotted some notes down and closed his eyes.

"Wake me up when Bat gets up." Those were the last words the Staff sergeant was able to say in a coherent manner. It took a few minutes but the ships biggest insomniac was finally asleep and sending vibrations throughout the hull of the ship from his snoring. Leaving Delta to watch over the security systems, to which he disabled all human interface with.


End file.
